


And All It Took Was A Smile

by ur_the_puppy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Angst and Humor, Clexa, F/F, Fluff, Humour, Werewolf AU, Werewolf!Lexa, Werewolves, werewolf!clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7972378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ur_the_puppy/pseuds/ur_the_puppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was exactly two years ago today that her life had ended. Two years ago today, Clarke Griffin had died.<br/>The name had died; she had not."</p><p>or the werewolf au with lexa thinking clarke to be dead after a devastating attack involving the ice nation, and clarke hiding so no one finds out shes actually alive</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blink And I'm Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've been wanting to do a clexa werewolf au for a while and ive finally gotten round to doing it. this fic won't be updated too regularly as im mainly focusing on my other one but i wanted to just get this out anyway. now its only me that goes over these so if you see a typo thats driving you mad, let me know c:

It was exactly two years ago today that her life had ended. Two years ago today, Clarke Griffin had died.

The name had died; she had not.

It’s funny to think how quickly everything can end, how in just a single heartbeat, everything you know and love can fall. How life itself can be seen as the miniscule rocks of sand, a soft and calming presence that can slip through your fingers in the time that you blink. If she was feeling less depressing, Clarke would comment that although everything can crumble it can just as easily be rebuilt, that a fallen stone can just as much be rubble as it can be part of a path to a new castle. But Clarke wasn’t feeling uplifting; the empty crushed cans of cheap beer reassured that. The blonde groaned as the light beamed in through the wooden shutters, burning her sensitive eyelids. Her alarm had been beeping its head off for an hour now. Was it an hour? All she knew that it was long enough that the sound no longer bothered her. Luckily for her, she wasn’t the only one having to deal with an alarm.

“Blondie I swear to the heavens themselves that if you don’t turn that off right now I’m going to murder you. Very. Slowly.” Her roommate growled from the other room. Clarke grinned lazily.

“Was that a threat or a good morning?” Clarke called back.

There was a slight pause. “If you don’t get up and turn that off you’re making breakfast.”

“Well, I hope you’re up for left over pizza.”

“There’s no left overs.” Her roommate replied with a smirk. Just like that, Clarke was up and stumbling through her bedroom door, tripping over the clothes that were spread out around her probably once clean floor. Her roommate, Harper, was standing with a grin by the kitchen counter; pizza box in hand.

“Liar.” Clarke huffed, stomping by the other blonde and snatching the box from her hands. Harper laughed, swinging her head back.

“Oh isn’t it such a pleasure to live with you Blondie,” she chuckled. “Also, you’re god forsaken alarm is still going off. I could ignore it when I was asleep but damn is that thing annoying.” Harper winced. Clarke shook her head, dropping the pizza box on the counter and waltzing back into her room. Her nose scrunching as she trudged through, she picked up her phone and turned off the alarm. Her room still stank of booze and who knows how old food. God, if her Mum saw how she was now.

Clarke’s smile dropped from her face. She stuffed her phone in her pocket. “How do you even sleep through it? That shit practically shreds my ears.” Clarke said, forcing herself back to the present. It never helped to think of the past. Harper shrugged as she and Clarke sat down on the tattered couch, the left over pizza slices now in hand.

“No clue to be honest, when I’m out, I’m _out._ Probably why I’m you’re roommate.” Harper answered honestly. Clarke took a bite into her pizza, biting back her gag when she tasted how off it was. It didn’t taste near as good sober.

“That and you don’t ask questions.” Clarke added. Internally she swore, what she wouldn’t do for just some meat. Some proper steak, beef sausages, lamb cutlets…

“You want a napkin for that drool their Blondie?” Harper snickered. Clarke glared at her, quickly glancing at her shirt if she had actually dribbled. Luckily for Harper’s sake, she hadn’t. “Anyway, I do hope one day you at least trust me with your _name_.”

“Don’t start with this again.” Clarke groaned. It never seemed bother Harper at the start. She was in a similar (if you could even call it that) place, a place where she needed to get away and not be found. Clarke was short on money, in which she had none and was basically living off the streets. Although Clarke knew she could easily make it if she were to ever run off into the woods and just live in that part of her that she so often denies; she didn’t want to be reduced to an animal. So even if that meant making everything so, so, much harder, she persevered. When Clarke started to find more alternative ways of making money, she scrounged up enough that she could just pay her rent for a month or so. Which meant that she had no objections when a girl no older than her chipped in. That was about a year and half ago, and it had been through that entire time, that Clarke had never told Harper her name.

At the start, Harper did the same. More out of spite she later learned. But she gave in quick, not really having a _reason_ to hide her identity. Harper of course has come up with a whole list of possible names for Clarke, though she mostly sticks with ‘Blondie’. Clarke didn’t need much explanation as to why.

“Harper I told you, I can’t tell you.”

“Yes but it’s been like two years Blondie, come on, haven’t I at least earned _some_ trust with you?” Harper pleaded.

“You _have_ earned my trust Harper,” Clarke said, her face softening. “And it’s because of that, that I’m not telling you. It’s safer for you if you don’t know.”

“You do realise how ominous that sounds right?”

“Harper-“

“No. I’ve dealt with you for over a year. I’ve patched you up when you come in at four am blind drunk, I’ve done so without question or question _s_.”

The guilt slithered into her mind like a snake. “I know.”

“Do you know?” Harper snapped, abruptly sitting up. “I’ve been giving you the benefit of the doubt, for a very long while now, but I’m running out of patience.” Before Clarke could get another word in Harper shot up, slapping Clarke’s outstretched hand that begged to pull her only friend back down. Harper stormed into the kitchen, Clarke close on her heels. She strode over to the front door, lingering for a moment before turning slowly to the roommate whose face was the most frightened she had ever seen. Harper swallowed her shadowing’s of doubt down. “You have till tomorrow morning Blondie. If you don’t tell me your name… I’m leaving.”

The world dropped from beneath her. “You can’t…”

“I’ll move in with my girlfriend. At least I know her name.” Harper spat. Clarke flinched as if she had been hit. She shouldn’t have, it would make her look weak; but today wasn’t any day. Today was a reminder of the day she lost everything and where she was left with nothing; she couldn’t lose something else, she couldn’t lose some _one_ else. The hard lines on Harper’s face lessoned. “Just tell me, tell me right now. I don’t need your last, just tell me your name.”

She wanted to, she wanted to _so_ bad. But she couldn’t. As much as Clarke wanted to be selfish, it was too dangerous for Harper to know who she was. Because if she knew then it would heighten the chance of letting her name slip, and then the wrong people might hear. Though she didn’t really truly care who would hear, hear that she was actually alive. There was only person who she didn’t want to know.

Clarke doesn’t know what she’d do if that person ever found out.

With a swollen tongue, Clarke shook her head.

“I can’t.”

Harper’s face instantly fell. Wordlessly, she left the dingy apartment that the two girls called home.

* * *

They were arguing again. Honestly it shouldn’t even come to a surprise at this point; it happened at every meeting. Ever since the Azgeda banishment the coalitions strength began to wither, the people who were against Lexa’s decision creating a sort of alliance of their own, which thankfully hadn’t caused any serious trouble. Yet. Lexa leaned back into throne, watching with disinterest as the ambassador of Sankru was shouting something about Yujleda crossing borders and pushing markings. Lexa knew that wasn’t in the slightest bit true as she had scouts everywhere and knew that the Sankru was just trying to pick a fight. She didn’t interrupt and tell them this though as she couldn’t find the need to care.

Everyone was just wound up about the disappearances. The thought alone makes Lexa scowl. They had been losing people for months now; someone would just disappear without a trace. There was no pattern, only that they were taking her people. And she was failing to do anything to stop it.

“ _Chon emo hef bilaik ai beda wich em in? Joken Yujleda skirsh laik yu?_ ” The Sankru ambassador growled.

“ _Yo ste            kwelen en hongri kom daun._ ” One of the other men snarled, his lip pulling back. The Sankru leader blanched and cold fury burned in his eyes. He slammed his fist on the table, making Lexa reluctantly drag her bored gaze over to.

“ _Ai na frag yu op kripa trish_.” He threatened low. Lexa rolled her eyes. The Yujleda Ambassodor leaned in close, his scruffy blonde beard almost rivaling the Sankru’s leaders in length.

 _“Ai na bilaik get em in tra._ ”

That seemed to be the last straw. The Sankru leader took a swing at the Yujleda’s, the fist connecting with a sickening crack. Lexa didn’t get up from her throne. She nodded to one of her warriors at her side and he instantly jumped into action at the order, pulling the Sankru Ambassodor off and thrusting him to the stone floor. The other one tried to run after him, hoping to get in a couple cheap kicks to the stomach, but the warrior saw him coming and grabbed him by the neck, using the momentum to smash him into the ground back first. The two men groaning, all eyes looked to Lexa. Her face was empty and cold as it always was since the banishment. Begrudgingly, Lexa stood up and strode down to the large oak table in the centre of the room. All the leaders straightened, bobbing their heads.

“Are there any actual problems that you are facing?” Lexa asked aloof, as if the brawl hadn’t even just happened a second ago. The leaders all nervously looked to one another, the obvious question in each one of their eyes but neither having the courage to speak it. Lexa quickly caught on, her gaze hardening. “ _Chich_.” Lexa snapped.

One of the Floukru leaders stepped forward, his voice hesitant. “The disappearances _Heda_ , they keep happening. There’s been no order or word of a neither defense nor attack against them. We have been sitting and watching it happen for months.”

“Because we have no idea who is behind them. We don’t know why or who they take until it is too late.”

“Yes _Heda_ but… the people grow restless. They worry that ever since Azgeda’s attack of Skaikru your ability to lead has… faultered.” He went on. Lexa gripped tight to the table, her knuckles white. “There has been word for a new Commander.”

“ _I_ am the Commander.” Lexa hissed and the man paled, shrinking back. Her cold eyes stared at everyone at the table. “You may doubt my leadership but I am doing what is best. We cannot go out on a hunt for something we do not know. They could be stronger than us, they could threaten our existence and blindly going in without preparation will kill us _all_.”

One of the Ambassadors growled low, stepping forward. “You were stupid to banish Azgeda.”

Lexa snapped her gaze onto him. “Excuse me?”

“Azgeda held powerful warriors, your irrational banishment of them has weakened us, practically invited their attacks in. Have you not noticed that since Azgeda has been gone the kidnappings have become more frequent?”

Lexa was shaking with anger. “I suggest you speak no more.” She muttered, the entire room filling with suffocating tension. The Ambassador didn’t back down.

“We all know the true reason you’ve held back. You don’t care anymore, ever since that wolf was killed,” he seethed. “The Skaikru one, _Klark._ ”

Everyone in the room took in a breath. Lexa stopped shaking, a sickening calmness washing over her. Slowly, she edged away from her spot and around the table, taking careful steps until she was in front of the Ambassador. He gulped.

“Would you like to say that again?” Lexa said, her eyes not leaving his trembling ones. Squaring his shoulders he stood his ground.

“You heard what I said. Ever since Clarke’s death you’ve given up.”

Lexa took a deep breath. “I am going to say this once, and I hope for your sake you remember.” Her hand shot out and wrapped around his throat, his eyes bulging. “Don’t you ever, _ever_ , say her name.” Lexa muttered. She squeezed his neck tighter, his face reddening with the lack of air. After a few seconds of gasping and struggling he nodded, giving in. But Lexa wasn’t done. She let go of him and he slumped to the floor, greedily gulping in as much air as he could. Lexa crouched down in front of him, forcing him to look her in the eye. The moment his met hers she reached to the dagger at her side and slammed it into his hand, the blade going halfway into the floor. He yelped and Lexa grabbed him roughly by his red hair, tugging his head back. “Do not question my leadership again.”

He immediately nodded, clear fear on his face. Lexa let go of him and strode back to her throne, spinning on her heel and slowly sitting down. Everyone seemed to release a collective breath. “Does anyone else have something to say?”

Silence. Lexa nodded and the Ambassadors nodded back, not one of them helping up the groaning men on the floor as they exited the room, filing out through the arching wooden door. Left with no one but herself Lexa let the tear that she earlier denied escape. She hung her head low, feeling the beginnings of sobs work their way up her throat when the door suddenly slammed open. Her head instantly snapped up, Lexa wiping her cheek in the blink of an eye.

“Lex,” Anya panted, nodding.

Lexa frowned. “Have you been running?”

“I have news, about Azgeda.” Anya said, walking until she was standing directly in front of Lexa who was also standing now.

“What is it?”

“Movement. The scouts, they tell me that you know, usually they tend to not stray too far, always quite a close-nit group.”

“And?” Lexa prompted, not seeing where her sister going. Anya glared at her.

“If you’d let me finish, I was about to say that they’ve sent someone out. _Far_ out, especially for them. It must be important.”

Lexa’s heart pounded in her ears. “Do we have eyes on them?”

“No but two trackers have been sent under my order, I do hope that’s alright with you,” Anya said hesitantly.

“It’s fine,” Lexa smirked. She took a shuddering breath. “Tell Indra to oversee while we go after the Azgeda scout, they must have sent them to send a message to someone. We need to get to them first.”

“Of course _Heda_ , I’ll prepare a team.” With that Anya left the room, already barking orders the second she made it to the hallway. Her heart was thundering, her skin practically buzzing with a mix of fear and excitement. Azgeda were up to something, and she was going to finally find out what.

Grabbing the bloodied dagger from the table that the man had pulled from the ground and slipping it back into its sheath Lexa took one last glance to the window behind her, the view from top floor of tower revealing itself through the glass.

Lexa lagged for a second and thought if Clarke would have been so rash to drop everything and go after a possible dead end lead.

She left the room with a wet sleeve.

* * *

With the skies darkening the hooded figure moved like a shadow through the back streets, never in the light but living in the dark as he watched the blonde head towards the same bar for the third night in a row. He smiled; he was right. Patting his pocket he felt the familiar weight of his phone, and he drew it out gracefully, unlocking the device. One hour until it opens. Slipping the phone back into his pocket he withdrew into the shadows once more, moving as fast as he could to the blonde’s destination before she did.

* * *

 

When night finally fell, Clarke was relieved. Harper hadn’t returned to the apartment yet and Clarke was coming to realisation that she was telling the truth this morning. She was going to leave unless Clarke told her, her real name. Of course it would be so easy to lie but Harper would see right through it, the girl had a knack for reading people. It came in handy when she was out, but it never helped when she was actually trying to hide things, you know, like the fact that she was a werewolf.

It was easier at first. Every full moon she’d slip out and leave a note saying she was heading out, nothing more, no explanation needed. She’d run to the woods as fast as she could, which is incredibly far since she lived in the city, and just make it in time where she couldn’t hold the wolf any longer. Now that she had more spare change, she had bought a storage unit, so that every full moon she didn’t have to run so far but instead could just turn there. It meant that she hated turning. She was trapped in a metal cage for all of the night, and then when the sun would rise she could finally be free.

She hasn’t run free in over a year.

But Harper began noticing that it happened every month, that every full moon Clarke would leave the apartment at around five and come back the next day. When Harper had confronted her about it the morning after, the wolf was still highly present in her and she nearly ripped out her throat. She had barely restrained herself, but had somehow managed too, though she never told her why just that she shouldn’t ask. That and she shouldn’t ask her name, and her past, and her family, and anything but what she was on the surface. Someone slapped Clarke on the back as she was lost in her thoughts and she instantly spun on her feet, gripping the attacks wrist and twisting.

“You scared the hell out of me!” Clarke scolded relieved, letting go of the man’s wrist. Atom grinned.

“On edge I see.” He snickered, briefly checking his wrist. Clarke hit him lightly on the arm. Atom was the owner of the current pub she was in, ‘The Dropship’ and was also the owner of the underground fighting ring that she was about to partake in. Like she does every night. It was the easier way to make money considering her lack of qualifications and need to stay under the radar, and since no one here would say anything anyway because they would lose their own skins; it was the perfect place to get cash quick. Also being taught to fight and heal from a young age helped immensely.

That and the whole ‘werewolf’ thing.

“Who’s up tonight?”

“New guy,” Atom said, nodding towards a hunched man in the corner of the room, wrapping tape around his hands. “Never seen him before in my life, which is saying something considering I know _everyone_ in this city.”

“You mean you know all the scumbags in this city.” Clarke corrected.

“Apart from you of course,” he grinned. Clarke scoffed.

“Lovely sweet talk Atom, you must tell me what your girlfriend thinks of it.”

“Which one?”

Clarke shoved him as he laughed. Smoothing down his short black hair he turned to her, shuffling backwards towards a stand. “I’ll see you in the ring in five blondie.”

Clarke gave him a nod. Blowing out a breath through her nose Clarke sat down in her usual chair, eyeing the man Atom had pointed out earlier. It was never good when Atom didn’t know the person; it meant that they weren’t from around here or corrupt. At least if they were corrupt, she knew they weren’t from the coalition. She couldn’t scent if he was wolf, not with so many humans in the room disturbing the smell, she’d only know in the ring or she went up to him now, which, she’s reluctant to do. Her nerves are on edge, from Harper’s words earlier and the fact that the full moon was in a few days and she hadn’t turned for nearly the entire month – she was desperately trying to keep herself under control. The fighting did actually tend to help with releasing that pent up energy, but it also brought along the risk of releasing her inner self.

Clarke huffed when she lost sight of him, the growing crowds hiding him. He was in the opposite corner where she sat; her baggy white felt like it was suffocating her. She checked her watch. Two minutes. Atom was at the makeshift podium now, a wired microphone in hand. She caught his eye across the room and he grinned. Guess they were starting early today.

Show time.

“Ladies and Gentlemen if you’d please make your way to the stands now as tonight I have a special treat for you all.” He yelled, his voice booming through the walls. It was a wonder they weren’t found out yet. Cheers erupted and filled the air, Clarke’s anxiety spiked. She hated not knowing who or what she was fighting. “Tonight we have a new comer in the ranks, someone who’s come quite a way I hear,” Atom continued. “All the way from Polis.” Clarke’s heart stopped. “So if you’d all lend a warm welcome to our first-time fighter, Atohl!” The crowd roared as Atohl, a man packed with muscle and a thick black beard, made his way into the shaking ring. A blue intricate tattoo was splayed across his left cheek, similar designs bleeding onto his chest and down his side. Clarke swore under her breath.

Ice Nation.

“And, our lovely one and only, Commander of Death!” Atom belted, and the cheers grew even louder. Biting back her snarl Clarke stood up from the rickety wooden chair and made her way into the ring, never breaking eye contact with Atohl. When he saw her though the surprise was evident on his face, which at least made Clarke smirk. Stepping into the ring with dried blood on the floor, Clarke walked up to Atohl. Her smirk dropped.

“How?” was all Clarke said. He smiled.

“We have a mutual friend.” He answered, his bare chest expanding. “I was chosen to be sent here.”

“From who?”

“Roan.”

Clarke kicked him in the throat. He slammed into the ground, instantly reaching for his throbbing neck. With a growl Clarke ripped off her shirt, revealing the bound taped chest beneath it. The mass of watchers practically howled in excitement.

“Don’t lie to me.” Clarke growled, stepping back as Atohl stood back up. He was grinning.

“I was warned you were feisty though I didn’t know you were that bad,” he chuckled. It took all of Clarke’s willpower not to just pounce on him and bite into his throat. For a second she thought about it, but then she remembered how much humans hated murder and all.

“I would watch your tongue Atohl,” Clarke warned. “It’d be a shame if you were to lose it.”

“Your pride will be your downfall _Wanheda_.” They were circling each other, but from his last word Clarke slowed slightly.

“ _Wanheda?”_

“He called you the Commander of Death, that is what you are in our true language.” He explained. Clarke bared her teeth, spitting to the ground.

“It is _your_ language.” Clarke hissed. “Mine is not.”

“That’s a shame then.” He lunged for her. If she were human, she wouldn’t have stood a chance, but now for the first time in a long while Clarke was on an even playing field, and was able to only get hit by the tip of his fist in the jaw. Her head whipped to the side but she instantly brought it back with a snarl and threw a lung of her own. Her moves were raw lacking the practiced discipline they used to hold, all filled with rage with fury. She landed a flurry of punches to his chest and flicked out her leg, sending him backwards. Within an instant she jumped on top of him, pinning him down.

“Who sent you? How did you find me?” Clarke snapped.

“As I said,” Atohl panted, struggling to throw her off him. “Roan.”

She grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him up, only to slam him back down again. “The truth!”

“That is the truth!” Clarke punched him again but he managed to free one of his hands and caught her fist. He threw her off and scrambled back up to his feet, charging at her in a mess of kicks and hurls as Clarke took a second longer to stand. The air rushed out of her lungs as a foot collided with her stomach, her body curling inwards. Atohl dragged her up from the floor and flung her across the ring, her back smacking the wire rings. Lines of red marked her skin. The crowd was like a creature of it’s own, the shouting’s growing wilder and more animalistic as the fight waged on and more blood littered the floor. Clarke got up shakily and they began circling each other once more. Her shoulder was spiking with pain so with one swift movement she gripped it tightly, and pushed it back into place. It was dislocated. The crack and roll of joints echoed through the dimly lit room.

“Prove to me you’re from Roan.” Clarke ordered, clenching and unclenching her bloodied fists.

“The fact that I’m from _Roan_ says it all, he didn’t even tell me it was you I was looking for.” His tone turned bitter. “I was merely told I was to get a message across to someone very important and that if I told anyone, he would personally behead me.”

“Well, at least his manners haven’t changed.” Clarke muttered. His face darkened.

“You know everyone believes you to be dead.”

“I know.”

“How must that feel? Having to leave your family and friends in the dark?”

“I’m starting to believe you have a death wish Atohl.”

“At least when I’m dead I’m not lying to the ones I love.” He shrugged

Clarke felt something stir deep inside of her, a cold flame so powerful she almost wanted to throw up from the feeling of it in her. An urge that she refused to listen too, one of a person that never got to express their anger; one of a killer.

“I do not want to kill you Atohl if you were truly sent by Roan, but you are making that very difficult.” She warned. Something she could only know to be a sly grin spread on his face.

“You cannot kill me _Skaipakstoka_.” He smiled. Clarke’s smile was wider.

“Wrong answer.” In speed you wouldn’t have known possible Clarke socked him in the jaw. She then threw another, and another, and another…

The crowd was roaring. Atohl growled and threw a lunge of his own but Clarke dodged it like it was nothing and kept going. His face, his chest, his stomach, anything she could hit. Each hit was rewarded with a crack of bone and Atohl movements slowed while Clarke was going faster and faster; Atom grew anxious having never seen her so angry.

She could feel the wolf practically at the surface now, and she was struggling to keep it under. Every time she looked at Atohl she saw _her_ , she saw the moment that she betrayed everything they had, that they were building. She imagined the moment over and over of when she had decided to abandon her. Tears burned her eyes but she kept going. Atohl couldn’t stand any longer and he collapsed to the ground.

Clarke stared at him, panting profusely. He was groaning, his face so bloody and bruised you could barely make out any features. Some part of her was screaming to keep going and she trembled as she desperately tried to reign herself back in. Not herself she thought, her wolf. Clenching her fists she could feel her nails piercing into her skin, probably partly transforming. Forcing herself to take deep breaths Clarke took a step back and glanced to Atom in the corner of the room. His mouth was partly open in shock. Clarke nodded to him and that finally seemed to snap him from his daze. Shakily, he made his way to the stand.

Atohl was still on the ground.

"I-It seems like we have our winner," Atom stammered, nervously glancing around the arena. The crowds breaks into a thunderous roars as Atom pulls his wits together, he schools his features into his usual show-man charm. "The Commander of Death!"

The crowd goes wild.

Clarke doesn't even smile, let alone cheer with them or raise a hand in victory. She merely stares at Atohl’s crumpled body, her intestines crawling with guilt and unease. She was starting to realise the consequences of hardly ever turning, the blow back from trying to conceal her wolf so bad. What she had done had barely felt like her. It felt raw and emotionless, something verging on the edge of bloodlust. Something she never ever, wants to feel. Her knees threatened to buckle but she managed the strength to stand. Atohl, still groaning, rolled onto his side and grinned when he caught Clarke's eye.

"Not as in control as you thought huh?" he teased. He instantly fell into a violent coughing fit, blood staining the white dusty floors. Clarke squared her shoulders.

"What does Roan want?" she demanded, trying to keep the discomfort from her voice. It was uncomfortably easy.

Grunting, Atohl hauled himself up so he was at least sitting. "You need to come home _Klarke kom Skaikru_."

"Do not speak my name." Clarke spat, flashing to his height in an instant and gripping his throat. He didn't seem fazed, if anything it seemed to amuse him more.

"My apologies, _Wanheada_." He smiled. Clarke reluctantly let him go. "But you are required to return home. Something big is happening and Roan needs your help to find out what it is."

"I'm not going back there," Clarke scoffed. "My home is here."

"You are needed _Wanheda_ and it would be best if you would get over yourself and do what is right." He cocked his head to the side. "For once."

Clarke almost bit into his throat. Instead, she leaned back, still at eye-level. "Does Roan truly need me?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll go, but only for him, only because of my debt to him. I'm not making a big come-back or anything I will just be there for his help."

Atohl nodded. "I will let him know. You are required back home in two days, he will meet you at the border between Azgeda and Trikru, the north side by the waterfall."

"There is no border there." Clarke frowned.

"There is now."

Clarke swallowed. "Okay, in two days' time I will be there."

"Good. May we meet again," he leaned in close. " _Klark kom Skaikru_."

Clarke slapped him hard and he laughed. She forced herself to exit the ring and not to just rip Atohl to pieces. The reality of the situation hit and it felt like the world was swaying.

She was going back home.

Cold fingers brushed against her spine and she shivered. She was going to have to go back, to go back to where it all went wrong. Hissing under her breath Clarke wandered to the corner of her room with her usual dodgy wooden chair. She sat down with a long breath. Surprisingly, Atom was already heading towards her. He stopped directly in front of her, his face expectant, and when she didn't say anything he threw out his arms.

"What?" Clarke said confused. His eyes bulged.

"Are you not going to tell me what the hell just happened out there?" he snapped. Clarke shrank into her seat.

"I beat another guy up. No big deal." Clarke mumbled. Atom glared at her.

"You didn't just 'beat him up', you practically tore him to shreds. Look at him, he can't even walk straight." Atom pointed out, guiding Clarke's sight to where a limping Atohl was heading towards the backstreet door, very slowly. Clarke shrugged.

"It was nothing, he just got on my nerves is all." She muttered.

" _Got on your nerves?_ If that was true then I wouldn't even be alive right now blondie." He scoffed in disbelief. Yeah he was probably right. "Just… tell me that was for show. Because you did well, you've earned the most since your first time in here."

Clarke hated that she was basically being rewarded for brutal violence, though she really should have expected that in an illegal underground fighting ring. "It was for show," Clarke lied. "Now are you done interrogating me? I need to get changed."

"Fine." Atom growled. "But this conversation isn't over, we're talking about this tomorrow." He added, pointing at her. Clarke gave him her signature sweet smile.

"Sure Atom."

He narrowed his eyes and stalked off. Clarke let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding. She really had to get her act together if she was coming back here, it'd be best if not everyone knew of her more animal tendencies. Her entire body froze. When, _when_ she was coming back here, not if. She was coming back. She was.

Wasn't she?

Clarke let her head hit the wall behind her. Everything was going so well, or at least it was starting to become manageable, maybe even enjoyable. All that's gone now. Now she has to face the questions and stares she's never ever wanted to live. Though if she was lucky, she'd hopefully slip in and out, not drawing any attention and everyone will still believe her to be dead. She can go back to her old life, to this life.

Clarke ignored the small beat of excitement that burned in her at the thought of going to the countryside again. So with a long sigh Clarke pulled herself from her same shitty chair, and headed for the bathroom, black bag in hand.

Harper couldn't even speak, she could barely even breathe. Her roommate, her seemingly normal roommate, got her money in an underground fighting house. She had followed the blonde more by accident than purpose really. She was late getting home and had seen the blonde leaving the apartment, wanting to talk about their argument this morning and give the girl another chance, which more or less ended up to be following her the entire way. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts anyway, Harper even saw her narrowingly avoid being hit by a car, only popping her head up when it was mere centimetres from smashing into her. The girl just kept on going like nothing had happened. And then as they neared the bar and Harper had followed the head of yellow in, merely saying she was with the blonde and the bouncer instantly stepped aside. Well at first he had questioned it, but then Harper told him that if he didn't let her in she would tell the blonde. That had actually worked bizarrely.

It wasn't that bizarre when she saw the blonde in the ring, when she saw 'The Commander of Death' in the ring. She seemed to pretty laid back at the start, or at least Harper could tell so after knowing the girl for two years, but then the man said something and it was like she had snapped. She had just completely torn into him after that, leaving nothing by a bloodied pulp of a man afterwards. Harper guessed it would make sense; it would explain why she would always come in battered and bruised in the morning. But her injuries would always be so small, just a little sprain or a slightly yellow eye. Nothing that could give away the fact she was beating people up for money.

Harper removed herself from the electric crowd, men and woman either scowling or grinning triumphantly as money was pulled from pockets and passed around. When she was free of the suffocating bodies she practically ran to the exit, the cold night air greeting her face as she stumbled out into an alleyway.

She audibly breathed a breath of relief.

Her head felt like it was spinning. It was strange seeing the usual low-key, laid back blonde in such a hostile environment. It churned her stomach to know that was where her money was coming from. She was trying not to judge the blonde, she really was, but every time she did she would see that man's face and the blood that hid it. Harper was so lost in her own thoughts she didn't notice that door had slammed open till the last minute. Harper jumped, yelping.

Atohl staggered out, not even giving the girl a glance. It should have rung off some alarm bells somewhere but the feeling building in his stomach was bordering on unbearable. He should try to hold it off, to find somewhere safer, but that girl was a lot stronger than he had previously thought; his body was screaming to heal, to change.

Harper gasped at the man, Atohl she thinks, collapse to the ground on his hand and knees.

"Are you okay sir?" she asked, stepping forward towards him. He grunted something incoherent, his entire body tensing. He was shaking. "Do want me to get help?" she went on, unsure. Suddenly his head whipped towards her, and he whispered one word that she barely heard, but she had heard it, and it made her blood run cold.

"Run."

Clarke had just pulled her shirt over her head when her phone lit up. Frowning, she checked it. Nothing, must have been a trick of the light Clarke wrote off. Shrugging she slung the black bag over her shoulder and strode out the bathroom, the people in the previous crowd parting like the red sea as she walked through. She couldn't deny that a part of her loved the attention and respect. Internally scolding herself Clarke went one last time to her spot to check if she had left anything when a familiar scent caught her nose. She stopped, her foot freezing mid-step. Clarke sniffed again. She edged backwards, trying to find where the scent was strongest. She moved throughout the room until it finally led her to a particular corner. She took a deep drag of the smell and felt her heart stumble when she managed to recognise it.

Harper.

Harper had been here. Harper had seen her fight, had seen her almost… she shook her head. She had to find her before she did something stupid, she didn't know what, she just knew she had to find her. Clarke tried to follow the scent but there were too many people in the room, and the smell often dipped out and back in. Though with finding the general direction of where it seemed to be going, Clarke saw it was close to the alleyway exit. She went through the door in a heartbeat, but that same heart lodged itself in her throat when she saw the scene before her.

Atohl was part way through transforming, and Harper was watching the entire thing. Her eyes were wide with shock, her jaw hanging open as her feet sat frozen in the ground, refusing her wants to move. Clarke swore. She was so, _so_ stupid. Of course Atohl would turn right after a beating like that, he would need to heal and best way to do that was by changing. The urge would be unrefusable. His spine was cracking up now, patches of black fur growing around his body. Clarke rushed over to Harper, standing directly in front of her so she would have nowhere else to look but her. Harper still tried to catch glimpses of the half-man half-wolf behind her.

Her throat was dry. "What-"

"I'll explain later, the important thing is we need to go. _Now_." Clarke warned. Harper blinked.

"But he… he-"

"It doesn't matter Harper we need to go." The shifting of muscle and bone crunched from behind her, and the shock on Harper’s face was beginning to melt into anger.

“It doesn’t matter? You nearly _killed_ him! You beat him senseless!” Harper spat, shoving Clarke backwards. It was like pushing against a brick wall and Harper furrowed her brows. Clarke gripped tight to her friend’s shoulder, half of her fighting the urge to turn and join Atohl, and the other to get Harper the hell away from here. In human form preferably.

“Harper it’s not safe, we can talk about this at home-“

“Have you been fighting this entire time? Is that how you pay the rent?”

Clarke didn’t understand why her next words filled her with such guilt. “Yes.”

“Wow,” Harper scoffed, her voice bitter. “ _Wow.”_

“Listen I’m in a very difficult situation okay? It was the only option.” Clarke said, trying to explain herself though she didn’t really know why.

“The only option? You make it sound like you’re involved in the mafia or something.”

“I’m not,” Clarke quickly interjected. “Well I guess not, in a way maybe? Listen just we need to get out of here before-“

Sharp pain erupted down her back as claws dug deeply into her skin. Clarke instantly shoved Harper so she was furthest away, her mouth open in a silent scream as the wolf’s nails slid down her back. Atohl pushed his paws in further, hooking his claws into her skin and throwing her to the side. Clarke slammed into the wall, the pain so intense for a moment she worried she was going to pass out. Opening her tear filled eyes Clarke saw Atohl snarl, snapping his black muzzle with crazed furiosity as spit flung itself everywhere. Blood dripped from his claws. Before Clarke could stop it, Atohl pounced at Harper.

It felt like time had slowed down.

Harper instincvly raised her arm in defense, crying out in pain as the wolf’s razor sharp teeth clamped onto her arm. Something long forgotten stirred within Clarke, and her eyes burned a bright yellow as the agony splitting her back numbed and her jaw widened, the tips of hands spreading and pointing in claws. Atohl’s teeth didn’t even break Harper’s skin before Clarke wrapped her arms around his belly and flung him off, letting him smash into the cement ground and roll into a pile of garbage cans. The crash of metal and wolf grated at Clarke’s senses but she instantly pulled herself to her full height, standing protectively in front of Harper.

“Atohl stop!” Clarke roared, her growing canines revealing themselves over her lip. The large black wolf pulled itself to its feet, wobbling slightly as it began growling crazily. Clarke growled back at him, the sound so low and powerful Atohl’s snarling faultered.

Clarke didn’t want to kill him, she really didn’t, but every cell in her body was practically bursting with the desire to protect the human, to protect her friend. And if that meant killing Atohl, then she would.

“Last chance _Azgeda_.” Clarke warned, hating how natural her accent came through on the words. The wolf paced towards them, Harper shivering violently behind Clarke, sprawled out on the ground as she clutched her arm. Clarke bent her knees. “There’s no going back.”

The wolf showed no signs of understanding her; he was too far gone. Excitement buzzed through her veins and for the first time in years, Clarke let it.

It was as if fire itself was licking every inch of her skin.

And she loved it.

“Harper,” Clarke breathed. “Get back.”

“Blondie what the _hell_ is going on?” Harper whimpered. Clarke glanced behind her and locked eyes with Harper, the trembling blonde gasping when she saw the blazing yellow in her friend’s eyes and the terrifying teeth exposing themselves. Clarke gave her a wicked grin.

“Don’t look,” she said, and then instantly fell to the ground with a crack of bone. Atohl paused; watching with curiosity as the strange smelling human writhed and grunted, clear pain and agony in their shaking voice. Clarke was surprised how quick it to took for the wolf to come out, how it was practically waiting just at the surface, as if all it took for it to finally break free was a tap to it’s hand. The pain though, was the same like always; excruciating. She tried to push it to go as fast as it could, which was honestly one of the worst decisions she had ever made because it fucking _hurt._ She could feel every movement of shifting bone, as her spine lengthened, as her hands bent and snapped, as her jaw widened and grew.

It was over in under a minute.

Now, where Clarke’s shredded clothes lay, was an immensely large blonde wolf.

Harper screamed.

Blood drenched the beautiful blonde furs back of the wolf, the claw marks still fresh. The black wolf, now seeing another, hardened it’s hollow yellow eyes. But of Clarke of course, did the best smirk a wolf could do. They charged at each other. Tooth and claw clashed, blood decorating the red brick walls as teeth bit and tore at hardened muscle without mercy. They tumbled and rolled as Clarke dived at him, clutching on to him like a vice. As dirt mingled with the red tinged fur the blonde took the advantage of strength she had, and clambered on top of Atohl. Clarke let out a long breath through her nose, deliberately blowing onto the black wolf’s face. He snarled, pouncing for Clarke’s neck but she was quicker, and gracefully ducked off him. Confused, Atohl got up to his paws only for what felt like a bus to crash into him, instant sharp fatal pain erupting at his neck. Clarke dug her snout deeper into Atohl’s neck and shook her head maniacally in an attempt to make sure he was fully dead.

But then someone grabbed her.

Clarke whipped her large around and bit at whatever was denying her, her kill. Harper staggered back swearing, holding her now bitten hand. Clarke’s jaw dropped.

 _Shit_.

In a last ditch effort Atohl took the advantage of the distraction and slammed his jaw onto one of Clarke’s front legs, pulling it and her down with it. The rapid change in position brought Clarke back to the present but it was too late as with the blonde wolf’s sudden closeness to the blacks, he could bite into her neck. He did.

The blonde wolf howled in pain, ripping its head away and losing a small chunk of its flesh. In one swift movement Clarke dived her jaw onto Atohl’s neck and bit down as hard as she could, his blood working it’s way onto her tongue. Finally, after a few slow moments, Atohl completely stilled. Ever so slowly Clarke lifted her head and stumbled backwards away from the body.

She had killed him. Nausea plagued her gut. She had never killed someone since…

“What… what just…” Harper stuttered, her entire body numb. Her hand throbbed but she ignored it as the reality of what just happen began to sink in. The man, Atohl, he had turned into… a wolf… and her roommate… she…

Clarke barked to gain Harper’s attention, her pale face snapping onto Clarke’s. The wolf gulped. Carefully, it hesitantly walked towards Harper, stopping when she flinched. When Harper relaxed the wolf took another few steps until eventually, it was directly in front of her. Harper crouched down. She took a deep breath. “Blondie?”

Clarke barked joyfully and Harper instantly jumped back. Clarke whined guiltily and rushed over to Harper’s side, nudging her head under her friend’s back to help her up. Harper chuckled in disbelief. “You’re… you’re a… werewolf.” She said, the supernatural term feeling strange in her mouth. Clarke wagged her tail and barked again, her tongue sticking at the side. Harper laughed again. “This is… _insane_.”

Clarke barked again. The adrenaline starting to wear off the injuries on her back and neck started to spike and Clarke winced. Nipping at Harper’s heel, which earned her a slap on the head, Clarke urged her friend to follow her back to their home. Harper looked at her confused.

“You want me to follow you?”

Clarke just looked at her from behind.

“Alright fine, sheesh you’re a bitch even when you’re an animal. Although, technically, I guess you really _are_ a bitch.” Harper giggled. Clarke growled lightly and trotted off, Harper following with a huff.

The second they made it back to the house, the journey taking twice as long because they had to stick to alleyways and roofs the entire time, the girl and the wolf stumbled into the apartment. Harper shut the door and instantly collapsed onto the couch face first. Clarke glared at her friend and headed to her own room, jumping up on the door and turning the knob with some difficulty, before finally hopping up on her unmade bed, and curling into a ball. The exhaustion from the fight made falling asleep easy, and soon the human and the werewolf fell unconscious.

Clarke was glad that for a single fleeting moment, she had forgotten she was going to have to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope you guys enjoyed this lil starter and are willing to give the story a chance. Thank you for reading!  
> comments and kudos makes me write faster (please validate me)
> 
> ~translations~  
> Chon emo hef bilaik ai beda wich em in? Joken Yujleda skirsh laik yu? - Which man should I trust? Fucking Broadleaf shit like you?  
> Yo ste kwelen en hongri kom daun - You are weak and hungry for blood  
> Ai na frag yu op kripa trish - I will kill you demon trash (sidenote: trish i made up because there wasn't a word for it)  
> Ai na bilaik get em in tra - I'd like to see you try  
> Chich - Speak


	2. All Bark All Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the ashes* heres finally a second chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i know it's been fucking months and i haven't updated, i know!! i mostly made this fic because im a die-hard werewolf fan and combining clexa and werewolves was just something id been wanting to do for AGES but, that was all i really had for this story. im still not entirely sure on what the plot is gonna be. so because of that and just being caught up in other fics ive kinda just left this one. BUT. i could never abandon it. fucking love werewolves way too much  
> anyway, enough with the excuses. heres finally a new chapter! i hope you enjoy!

She was running as if the devil himself was chasing her. She could practically feel his breath on her neck, a sneer on his face as his boney fingers slid down her spine. She pushed faster, blinking away the sweat that dripped onto her eyes as the black forest around her snickered, preening in delight as they watched the being stumble and stagger. She pushed out the sounds, her legs sparking in pain with every ragged step she took. But she couldn’t stop, not with the flood of blood chasing her. The red water was like a creature of its own, dodging and weaving trough the trees with divine grace, slipping through the gaps as it hunted its prey. As it hunted Clarke.

She could feel her strength slipping, could feel the acid building up in her thighs, begging her to stop. But she couldn’t. She could never stop.

She would always be running.

The ground suddenly cracked, as if the land was as thin as a sheet of ice, barely staying afloat over the water beneath. But the dirt beneath her feet didn’t just slice through one way. It followed her steps, the earth splitting mere centimeters behind her bare feet, and no matter how much she pushed herself and no matter the sweat that was so thick on her it was practically a second skin; the water kept coming. The ground kept breaking. The voices kept snickering.

 _Faster Clarke faster,_ they laughed. _See if you can outrun us._

The last reserves of her energy were flicking, and she felt it so agonizingly clearly. Her breathing, which was more a desperate panting, rubbed her throat so raw she was sure it was bleeding. Her steps, after running and running and running, finally fumbled.

And this time she couldn’t catch herself.

She fell, but before her face made contact with the ground the growing cracks leapt at the sudden opportunity, and instead of falling face first into the earth – she fell _in_ to the earth. The very ground swallowed her whole, but Clarke found brief relief when that tsunami of blood couldn’t chase her anymore. But now, she was just falling.

Falling, falling, falling.

At first the hole was wide, spacious, but the longer she was sky falling the more it closed in on her like a vice, tighter and tighter. She tucked her arms close to her body, could barely open her eyes against the wind that attacked her face so intensely, her speed unearthly fast. All she could hear was the rapid rush of air, and when she cracked her eyelids open just a bit, tears filling them from the dryness, she gasped and screwed them tight. But that didn’t help. Because now that she had seen it, seen where she was heading – now she could smell it.

The stench of death, as if wrapping its dried arms around her and infecting every inch of her being.

Bodies. Endless and endless piles of bodies. Some alive, some dead. Some lacking heads, others with them, but with chunks of flesh missing from their necks, claw marks dragged down their faces and arms and legs and their chests. Some of them weren’t even human bodies, but in their wolf forms, the fur drenched in crusty blood. She screamed, but no sound came out.

She just kept falling, and unlike landing in the mountain of bodies below her like she expected, she peeked open her eyes just in time to see a gap being pushed from the pile. And suddenly, the dead bodies weren’t dead. Their milky eyes blinked, dry blood suddenly wet, spilling like waterfalls from the bites in their necks, the slices on their chests. They all looked up, bodiless heads rolling. And right as she was about to slip past them, as the sudden hole in the centre that glowed red looked like the best thing in the entire world, she slowed down.

She tried to scream again, felt the pressure against her vocal chords, felt that strain that brought out veins in her forehead.

But no sound came out.

Instead, the bodies below her began to scream. And their screams were so loud Clarke’s ears began to bleed.

She was at their height now, her fall deciding to takes to time, slow its pace. She begged for it to speed up like it had before, even attempted to swim through the very air. But it didn’t work, and now the broken arms and chewed muzzles could reach her. One of the wolves with an ear missing clamped its jaw on her ankle, a man with pure white hair and a dagger in his head screeching, swiping his chipped nails across her face. All of them were reaching for her, grabbing for her and trying to get any bite or scratch or swipe in. She felt the burn of each contact with her skin, felt like it wasn’t a nail or a tooth but a hot poker that had a love for lava, as if it had made a deal so it wouldn’t melt the metal, but it’d hold that same amount of heat the red sludge boasted.

When she was sure every inch of her felt like acid had given her a kiss, the bodies were gone and she was freefalling again.

But this time she hit the ground.

Well, not ground, but wooden floorboards.

Her skin was still screaming in agony, but when Clarke’s head lifted it up with its dwindling strength and caught the reflection in the mirror in front of her, she saw there were no scars. And the closer she stared at the mirror, she realised where she was. Her head jumped around her, disbelief written clear on her features.

It was her childhood home.

Before she could process this, her body was roaring again. But not because of the attack from before, the invisible scars, but from itself. It was changing. Her spine arched and broke through her very skin, claws roughly broke out from her knuckles as the human teeth in her mouth were forced out, and she felt each one, felt as each were pushed out from the sharper canine ones replacing them.

It was nothing short of hell.

Smoke suddenly burned her nostrils, not that she cared as she writhed and bled, skin ripping and tearing as the wolf in her seemed to fight its way out from within, that instead of being one, it was like a completely different creature inside of her.

And it wanted out.

When it was finally over and all of her four legs were trembling with sheer exhaustion and torture, her eyes drifted to the mirror, and she staggered back so fast she slipped on her own blood and crashed into the ground. Her wolf, her, had blonde fur, like the colour of her hair – but not the one in the mirror. No, to Clarke’s absolute horror she learnt that she hadn’t turned into herself but into a completely different wolf, a black wolf.

A very specific wolf that she hated with every fiber of her being.

She couldn’t find the strength to think her name.

Clarke snarled with her new jaws, saw the small tendrils of flames in her peripherals, before she charged at the mirror. It smashed almost instantly. Shards of glass clattered to the floor, and she pulled back just in time for a rouge flame to snap at her, just missing her muzzle. When Clarke snapped her head around and saw how the house had suddenly caught fire, how the burning was closing in at every inch of her, she howled, howled with pain and agony and fear.

And she was answered with the sight a brunette standing in front of her, her face masked in black face paint and dressed only in a long and torn black gown.

She felt every bone in her turn to jelly.

The brunette, who was not a year older than her, reached out a hand. “Clarke,” she said, and she would have pounced at the girl then, aimed for the exposed line of her neck. But, when she had said her name, it wasn’t with her voice. Her paws edged back, the heat pressing in on her so incredibly tightly, ash and smoke buried deep in her lungs.

“Clarke,” she said again, with that same voice that wasn’t hers. It was familiar, and as the flames themselves roared and a wooden pillar collapsed just in front of her she yelped. She barked, tears of frustration slipping, since that she wasn’t a person, couldn’t scream. “Clarke!” the brunette snapped yelling. The ground was suddenly shaking, but her legs were glued to the floor, unable to move. She howled again, terror so thick in her veins she could do nothing but watch the house crumble around her.

The brunette unexpectedly disappeared, and even though the sight of the woman sparked such an uncontrollably dark rage in her gut, she whined. The ceiling was completely black with smoke, the fire licking her tail. She barked erratically, begging for someone to find her.

But no one came.

And just as her eyes snapped upwards and saw the wooden beam splinter, saw it shift and began its fall down directly towards her rooted spot, her name was screamed right in her ear.

Clarke woke up with a gasp.

Someone was touching her shoulder, and her arm shot out to grab the person’s wrist, her eyes a blazing yellow and hand already partly transformed, nails long and sharp. She snarled and pounced onto the attacker, but the moment she had jumped them and landed on the ground, a blonde staring wide eyed up at her, Clarke froze.

“Harper,” she blinked, scrambling to get off the girl. She instantly pulled her up, taking a few steps back. “Fuck, I’m- I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, the words feeling strange in her mouth as she realised her canines had grown, her jaw slightly widened, showing off razor sharp teeth. She took a glance behind her, sucking in a sharp breath when she saw the torn up sheets. “Shit.” She muttered. Clarke forced herself to take a few slow breaths, calming the erratic pounding of her heart. She reminded herself that it was just a dream. A terrifying, horrible, traumatizing dream. She shut her eyes, and when they opened again the yellow had given way to blue.

Harper, her face unreadable, took a step back.

Her hands finally retracted themselves, her body fully retreating back into its human state. Clarke pulled in a shaky breath, and not making eye contact, brushed past the frozen Harper and into the living room. She tried to keep her steps steady, but her mind was still reeling from the dream, and she tripped more than once. When she did finally make it into the living room, which really was just a couch and a TV, the kitchen right next to it, Clarke felt a sudden wave of cold. She realised she was practically drenched in sweat, her hair stuck to the sides of her head and the slight morning breeze making her feel like it was snow coming through the open window, not the spring air. She rushed over to the window and shut it. And just as she locked it, she heard the soft pad of footsteps behind her.

“I’m guessing that’s why you tell me never to come into your room.”

Clarke chuckled dryly. “It’s one of the reasons.” Pushing out a slow breath, Clarke turned around. Harper was standing there awkwardly, rubbing her arms with nervous eyes. Clarke didn’t say anything at first, as she really had no idea what to say in a situation like this, but then she saw Harper’s hand.

Saw the bite on her hand.

And this time, when Clarke looked at Harper again, she saw that it wasn’t awkwardness that she was standing with. She wasn’t rubbing her arm out of nerves, but out of the cold. Her eyes were jumping around not because she didn’t know where to look, but because she was squinting, glancing around the room in a new light.

Clarke took a few feather light steps toward her, her face tight. Harper must have seen because she narrowed her eyes at her.

“What are you doing?” she muttered.

“Show me your hand.” It wasn’t a request. Harper swallowed dryly, her muscles tensing, but she complied anyway. Slowly, hesitantly, she stretched out her hand. Clarke’s eyes were glued to the ring of red that sat idly in the centre, stepping close and letting her own fingers trail over the indents in the skin from the teeth marks. _Her_ teeth marks. She let Harper’s hand go and swore. Harper’s arm fell back to her side, but her attention was on the Clarke who was now sitting on the couch, her hands cupping her face. Her entire face was hidden under her hands, except for her eyes.

And her eyes were the most intense blue she had ever seen.

Harper shuffled over to the couch, slowly sitting herself down next to her roommate. She didn’t sit close, like she normally does, but moved till she was at the very edge and could wedge herself into the corner. She cleared her throat, but Clarke still kept staring blankly forward.

“So last night wasn’t just a weird dream huh?”

Clarke shut her eyes, opening them with a sigh. She leant back into the couch. “No.”

“So you’re a…” Harper scrunched her nose. “You’re not… normal.”

“I’m a werewolf.”

The confession seemed to sound much louder than it actually was. Even Clarke, having being born such a creature, felt stupid from saying the word. It felt like a human word, and after being so completely cut off from her people for two years saying the term made her skin crawl. Clarke dared a glance at Harper, seeing that she was just staring at her, a crease in her brow as she probably went over whether she could trust her, if, really, she wanted to admit that what happened last night was real. A man transforming into a wolf and fighting another was _real_. So Clarke kept quiet, let the girl take her own time in coming to terms. Because that was she had to do now. She couldn’t just ignore, couldn’t just leave and go on with their lives like nothing happened. Because she had been bitten. Because Clarke needed to go home.

Harper finally spoke up, her arms wrapping around her stomach. “So you’ve always been… a werewolf.”

Clarke nodded. “I was born one. I come from a long line of wolves. My pack-“ she stopped herself, forcing a breath. “My former pack, live up in Polis.”

“You used to live in a pack? Was that where you were before you came here?” Harper questioned, her arms beginning to shake a little.

“Yes.” Her answer was clipped, some of the softness in her face disappearing.

“You like… all live in one house and walk around shirtless? Like some Twilight shit?”

Though Clarke was still exhausted and shaken from her nightmare, the attempt at the joke had her cracking a small smile. “Not quite,” she smirked. The smirk didn’t last long as reality came rushing back. Clarke sucked in a sharp breath. “Harper… what you saw last night…”

“I’ve seen enough movies to know I can’t tell anyone.” Harper grinned, though it was shaky. Clarke noticed she was sweating even though she was shivering.

“It’s not that,” Clarke said softly. She forced herself to lock eyes with her, with the one friend she had left. She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She didn’t want to do this, and Clarke hated how even if that was true, the years of being alpha hounded things like this to memory. She shuffled an inch closer, but when Harper, whether consciously or not, pushed further back into the corner of the couch, Clarke retreated. She pretended it didn’t hurt. “Harper what you’ve seen, if you were human I would have to kill you.”

Harper stilled.

Clarke didn’t say anything.

“… Are you going to?” she eventually whispered, staring up at her.

Clarke took another shuddering breath. “No, because you’re not human.”

Unlike before Harper suddenly jumped up. Instinct made Clarke jump up with her, though she hastily reprimanded herself internally. It was hard to fight against the primal need to not give someone else the advantage on her. Clarke kept her distant though, watching with worried eyes as Harper began shaking her head, a humourless chuckle on her lips.

Harper finally met her gaze.

“I’m human, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even _know_ you… you people even existed until last night!”

Clarke took a careful step forward. “Harper-“

“Kill me if that’s what you have to, but don’t go taunting me like you’re playing with your food.”

“You know that’s not-“

“What are you even saying huh? Did you knock your head in that fight with that wolf last-“

 _“Harper!_ ”

She fell silent.

Clarke, trying to control her breathing, took another step closer. “Stop.” She hung her head, screwing her eyes shut. Thankfully the tears didn’t come. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, lifting her eyes. Harper was staring unblinking at her. “I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Harper mumbled, her voice shaking slightly.

They both knew why. Clarke could tell by the blatant fear on her face. But she answered anyway, because she was her friend.

And really this was all her fucking fault.

“Your hand Harper.” She was standing in front of her now, and, gently, she reached forward and pulled Harper’s wrist. Harper refused to break Clarke’s gaze. Clarke didn’t smile. “I’m sorry Harper. You can’t understand… I never wanted this. Never. Last night, it had been so long and I was so distracted with Atohl… I did it without thinking…”

Harper finally stared at her hand in Clarke’s.

“I’m so sorry.”

She stared at the bite.

The world suddenly dropped from beneath her, or maybe it had dropped a few seconds ago, and she’d only just noticed. The constant hot and cold flashes had left her beyond disoriented, especially with the never-ending dizziness in her head. But before blackness crowded her vision, she managed to whisper a single word.

“Oh.”

-

Clarke caught Harper as she passed out.

She had been expecting it. Her body was preparing it changes, and with the full moon so close, the process of turning was going to be unfortunately fast. No matter when you were bitten, you will always have your first turn on the full moon, and not a day later. With the moon coming in just two nights, the infection would be quick, and side effects would come fast too. Normally, if granted with permission with from the alpha, a human is turned the first day after the full moon, allowing the body a month to slowly adjust. It’s a long, gradual process, but she’s seen it happen once. For her best friend.

Ex-best friend, at least.

But they had days, and Clarke knew that it wouldn’t go well for her friend. She told herself she’d take care of her though, she’d be wary of the signs and try her best to ease Harper through the turning.

Because it was her fault.

How could she? How could she have been so stupid? Rules varied and depended mostly on the individual packs, but there was one rule that went for all, went for every werewolf who walked the earth. It was the one thing that everyone could agree on.

Never bite a human.

And to think she used to be alpha.

She brought her into her room, but when her eyes caught sight of her shredded sheets, she backtracked and went into Harper’s. Her room was the same size of Clarke’s. It was small; the walls cream, and like Clarke’s, held few personal possessions. Clarke didn’t know much of Harper’s past, mostly because since Clarke hadn’t divulged her own, Harper hadn’t found need to explain hers. She had different sheets though, hers full of sharp geometric shapes and colours, the mattress sinking as Clarke gently laid her down on it.

She lingered for a few seconds by her bed, eyes narrowing on the beads of sweat and the subtle, but never quite ending shivering that shook the girl’s body. Guilt, dark and familiar rose up in her gut, and for a second Clarke let herself drown in it. She let herself think of just how fucked everything had gone; how she had just killed someone last night, how she had turned her friend, how she was being forced to go home. She drowned in her fears and doubts until she couldn’t breathe, but then the second passed, and Clarke didn’t let herself feel for any longer.

She blinked, and left the room.

Harper didn’t sleep for too long. Only for about two hours. Clarke was hunched over a stuffed bag now, another one packed to the brim sitting next to her, when her hearing caught the shuffle of feet behind her. Her head spun around in time to see Harper stumble out of her room, leaning most of her weight against the doorway. Clarke saw her squinting.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Packing,” Clarke answered, turning back. She stuffed in one last shirt. “We have to leave soon.”

“Where?” Harper said. Clarke sighed, slowly standing up. She fully turned around in time to catch Harper’s frown.

“I have to go home, and I can’t leave you alone. So you’re coming with me.”

It was a decision she had spent the last hour arguing with herself over.

Though Harper had clearly just woken and it looked like she could barely hold herself up, she scowled, taking her weight off the doorway. For a moment she swayed, but stumbling forward she managed to right her balance.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

It would have sounded threatening, but her jaw seemed to not be quite responding properly and the words came out slurred.

Clarke shook her head, but Harper kept going. “I don’t even know your name! Why would I suddenly run off with you?”

Clarke was quiet before she whispered, like if she said it any louder the world would crash on her. “My name is Clarke.”

Harper, though obviously not quite right in the head at the moment, blinked.

“And it’s too dangerous to leave you here,” Clarke said using Harper’s stunned silence to plow on. “You’d either hurt yourself or a human, or worse you could run into a mutt and end up dead. Very few have conscious control over themselves on their first turn. You’d have no idea what you did until the next morning, and trust me, waking up somewhere you don’t know and with no idea how you got there covered in blood is not the best experience.”

Clarke’s voice was hard, and Harper seemed to be suddenly realising how very real this all was.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have time to let Harper take it all in.

“I’ve packed you a bag. It’s mostly clothes, though there’s a toothbrush and toiletry shit in there too. We need to move fast it’s already,” Clarke glanced at her watch. “Shit, ten. Right. Grab anything else you need and we’ll go.”

Harper blinked, shaking her head. She was obviously stuck in an internal argument with herself as she stood staring at Clarke, her brow furrowed and lips caught between her teeth. When she was finally done packing and stood up to face her, Harper let out a great sigh, the tension easing from her shoulders.

Harper let out a dry laugh.

“Well. It’s not like I have anything here for me anyway. Where we going?” She threw out her arms as she said this, clear defeat, but also a bit of excitement written in her eyes.

Clarke had been expecting a lot more argument from her roommate. Then again, her entire biology was changing, so she suspected that had something to do with it. “Okay,” Clarke said nodding. It was mostly for herself. “Right. We’re going far out, but it’d be better if we travel on foot, as it will gather less attention. You should know that… that the most important thing about this is stealth. We don’t want to be seen, smelt or heard. In and out.”

“Why?” Harper asked frowning. Clarke paused, considering what to say.

“I… didn’t leave on the best terms. We can’t run into anyone. If I’m found to be there it could ruin everything. No one can see us, understand? No one can know-”

Harper raised her hands. “Hey relax, I’m not gonna’ go blabbing any time soon you’re fine.”

Clarke sucked in a shaky breath, but nodded.

“So I assume you know where you’re going?” Harper went on, tentatively stepping forward.

“Yes. With the full moon so close you should be able to keep pace with me, or at least, more than you could before. Once you turn we can run full blast.”

“I’m sorry but what does the moon have to do with anything?”

Clarke, for the first time since this dreadful morning, felt a soft smile spread on her face. “Because you’re becoming a werewolf, and while once you master your wolf you can turn at will, _you’ll_ be following the lunar cycle. The full moon, the day before, and the day after. Though since this is your first turn, you’ll turn on the day of the moon, not before.”

Harper looked like she was going to faint again.

She didn’t say anything more, instead wandering over to the fridge. Clarke paused, wondering if she should go over with her, offer comfort of some kind. Because she may have been cut off from proper contact for a while, but Harper was a friend wasn’t she? They had shared this space for nearly a year and a half. She had been there when Clarke would come back from a particularly bad fight, click her tongue but still would pull out a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and hand it over wordlessly. Would hide the booze when the piles became a tad too high, would clean her sheets without question when Clarke would leave it ignored for weeks.

And what had Clarke done in repayment?

She had helped pay the bills, done shopping runs once in a blue moon. But… she hadn’t done enough. She knew that. The past two years had felt so painfully slow, each day, each breath and second seemed to stretch timelessly, as if whatever created this earth took pleasure in dragging the hours. In not letting the pain just blur past. Clarke tried to beat that. Tried drinking into blindness to force the clock to move.

And it worked.

Sometimes.

Clarke hands shook as she stood up, hoisting the bags over her shoulder. Oh, she’d been trying to ignore it, forcing herself to focus on Harper. On the fact that she’d turned her, that she’d just destroyed an innocent’s life. But selfishly, it wasn’t Harper that Clarke was most worried about. She should be, that’s for sure. But the fear and guilt for Harper paled in comparison to what really was making Clarke fight the urge to throw up.

She never forgot her name. Never forgot the way she said hers, never forgot the shade of green in her eyes and never forgot the half-smiles she thought she didn’t notice. She never forgot _her_ , even if Clarke tried so, so fucking hard to.

Because how could she?

How could she move past the girl, the woman who made her feel like air wasn’t quite right unless she was breathing in hers? How could she not think over and over the times when they were young, teenagers just verging on adulthood, forget all those meetings, all those times they snuck out, the times they ran through the trees as wolves and never stopped till one of them fell from exhaustion, all those times she’d push her up against a tree-

No.

She hadn’t forgotten. Not at all.

But she also hadn’t forgotten the woman’s betrayal. That moment seemed to be ingrained into her memory. Because she may have been her possible mate, she may have been the one girl in the entire world that was for her. She may have been her love that’ll never leave her. But Clarke knew that if she met her, if they crossed paths once more…

There’d be blood.

-

Lexa was anxious.

Excited, tired, and keen but…

She was anxious.

She had made sure to keep constant tabs on Azgeda’s movements through the years, though it had become much harder since their banishment from the coalition, an alliance of the packs across the state. She had spies in Azgeda, but they had a habit of not lasting long, and really she was running out of people who she could fully trust enough. Trust enough to stay on her side, but also trust enough to survive.

Because Azgeda were savage. They embraced the feral primal nature in wolves, reveled in the hunt and the kill, especially when it wasn’t just deer falling prey to their jaws. Lexa had dealt with cases of human killings with them. Unfortunately, Nia, their alpha, was always the perfect distance away, always just out of reach for it to be her fault. Oh she was cruel all right, but she was smart enough to evade the consequences.

There wasn’t anything that Lexa wouldn’t do to be given the chance to kill her.

She also knew she was up to something. Two years ago, almost exactly really, Nia had basically confirmed her suspicions. But Lexa tended to push that memory as far as back as she could. Tried, and failed, to forget the moment she felt her heart break. And the one behind the kill being her own head.

Though there wasn’t anything that quite compared to the day after, when Lexa learnt that Nia had gone back on her deal. Yes, she’d stuck to it in that her people weren’t touched. That was very true, and has since created a heavy tension between the Trikru and Skaikru packs, the Skaikru wolves now always casting her suspicious glances if she caught their eye. Or more commonly, murderous.

They blamed her for Clarke’s death.

But Lexa blamed herself too.

Lexa was brought out of her thoughts when someone knocked into her shoulder, and though training instinct kicked in lightening fast, Lexa relaxed when she saw it was just Anya, her sister, who was walking next to her with a raised brow. Her favourite means of communication apparently.

Lexa rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Anya,” she said, answering the hidden question.

“You always were a terrible liar.”

At Lexa’s scowl, Anya smirked.

“Well, at least when you try to lie to me.”

“There any reason you’re disturbing me when you should be watching our surroundings?”

“Seriously?” Anya scoffed, letting out a dry chuckle. “It’s nothing but trees Lex, and you know it. We’ve been walking the border for days now and we’ve had nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Lexa muttered. “We caught an Azgeda’s scent treading the line.”

Anya nodded dramatically. “Yes, yes… the Azgeda’s scent distinctly on _Azgeda’s_ side.”

Lexa lightly shoved her sister. “It was _you_ who brought us out here. I don’t know why you’re acting like this is my idea or something.”

“Well, DNA wise, it’s like… at least like _half_ your idea-“

“ _Shof op Onya_ ,” Lexa growled. Anya, wearing that same damn smirk, stopped talking. Lexa shook her head, her walk turning into a stomp. “ _Emo diyo_ _ai put op glong.”_ She mumbled under her breath. Unfortunately, Anya was indeed a werewolf like her, so it really made no difference how quiet Lexa uttered the words. She still earned a swat to the back the head. “ _Really?_ ” Lexa breathed exasperated.

“Really. You may be Heda, but I’m still your older sister.”

Lexa scowled but didn’t say anything more.

They fell back into silence. It was true; they had been scanning the border for days. They had even gone out of it, especially when Lexa caught the scent of an Azgeda wolf leaving their territory, but it wasn’t into Trikru lands. They’d gone through the Skaikru’s. If they were on better terms, terms like they were two years ago then Lexa could ask them. Could ask if they’d seen anyone pass through, easily spread the search for the wolf. But they weren’t on good terms. So instead Lexa bit her tongue and ignored how her heart still stung.

It was worrying her though. The Trikru territory was bigger than Skaikru’s, and while it had been fine before it was far from now. She knew they were pushing borders and markings, seeing if they could edge that bit closer without her noticing. Of course she did though, but every time she went to sort it out it became a mission of avoiding each one of their stares, ignoring the tension that’d cling to the air and block her lungs. Before the incident, they had been working together. Nia was up to something, still is, but back then Lexa had more than just herself. She had the coalition strong, no doubt on her leadership and, best of all, she had a partner.

She had Clarke.

How did her thoughts always turn to a dead girl?

It was a while before either of them spoke up again. They were far from Skaikru now, hitting the newer Azgeda borders. The banishment of Azgeda had pissed Nia off, though Lexa also knew that it also humoured her. The year consisted of a constant push and pull, new edges being made only for them to be destroyed a week later. She had nearly lost some of her best fighters in the process. Currently, Azgeda had fallen smaller, as the other packs had offered Lexa their aid. Some of them at least.

Some of them were just waiting for her to step down or die.

Whichever came first really.

But the area they were in currently was known to have blurred lines. The anxiety in her stomach that had stuck with her for days hadn’t yet gone away, and patrolling the borders here only tightened it. Her eyes kept skipping, kept checking behind her and the sides, desperate to catch any glimpse of movement. Normally, Lexa wouldn’t have to worry about rival packs trying to kill her dishonourably, but this was Azgeda, and as long as Lexa was dead, it didn’t matter to Nia how.

So, she kept up her guard.

And surprisingly it wasn’t a sight of a wolf that had her fists clenching.

But Anya’s voice, as she carefully whispered, “you missed it you know.”

Lexa pretended she didn’t hear. It was too obvious that she clearly had.

“You didn’t go last year either.” Anya went on, her voice still that infuriating soft and gentle.

“Go to what?” Lexa said. She was hoping to piss Anya off, to get her to stop staring at her with sympathy in her eyes that she knew to be there. But instead she was answered with an even sadder sigh.

Anya grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. At Lexa’s glare Anya reluctantly let go. “Lex, it’s been two years. These… get-togethers, they’re good for closure. You weren’t the only one who lost her.”

“You really think a murder is cause for celebration?” Lexa muttered, refusing to meet Anya’s gaze. It was probably a good thing, considering Lexa’s stare right now could most likely burn forests.

“You know it’s not like that.” Anya took a stop forward, putting herself in Lexa’s line of sight. Reluctantly, she lifted her head. “I went last night. They had a fire, told stories and went hunting together in her honour. You should have been there.” Anya took in a shaky breath, knowing she was dreading dangerously. “She would have wanted you there.”

Lexa felt it, the fire in her veins that had her grinding her teeth and preparing her retort. But it had been so long, and the annoyance and anger had faded a long time ago. Now it was just ache. Truthfully, Lexa had been barely scraping by these few days. It was the anniversary of Clarke’s death, of the attack on Skaikru from Azgeda. Lexa of course knew it wasn’t just Clare that had perished in the fight.

But it was Clarke who mattered.

And as much as Lexa wanted to tell Anya to fuck off, that she didn’t understand – she couldn’t. So instead she shifted the topic off her, a habit she had always been good at.

“You may be able to walk through Skaikru lands without being killed on sight, but I am not so lucky.”

Anya shook her head with a scoff. “Don’t be dramatic. They wouldn’t touch you.”

“No?” Lexa countered, raising a brow. “So Raven’s constant death threats are for fun?”

“You know Raven gives everyone death threats. She gave me one this morning because I took too long brushing my teeth.”

Lexa’s lips twitched. “And yet you have her as your mate.”

Anya shrugged, though there was a small smile sneaking its way onto her face. “Least I’m never bored.”

Lexa almost smiled too, but instead she just shook her head and kept on walking. When Anya caught up to her she was scowling because she had realised that Lexa had easily thrown the spotlight off her. Lexa couldn’t stop her smirk.

But it dropped the second her nostrils flared.

A scent had floated past, faint and barely there, but Lexa had caught it. She always would, it was a scent she would never forget.

Lexa snarled.

She spun around, her heel digging into the dirt as she bolted. Anya clearly hadn’t expected sudden movement and almost tripped over herself to follow her. Though Lexa initially tried to retain some semblance of self-control she instantly threw it to the wind and ditched her awkward not-quite-run run into a plain sprint. She could hear Anya stumbling to keep up but Lexa didn’t care, all she was focused on was that scent, _his_ scent. Soon Lexa came bursting through a line trees and into a clearing. Normally she would have taken the time to stop and scan her surroundings. See where she was.

But the moment Lexa saw him she forget everything and ran for him.

Roan turned around from where he had been staring out onto a small nearby waterfall, and at seeing Lexa he let out what could only be called a smirk. Except the expression fell quick at the look on Lexa’s face – she let out a gut-wrenching snarl before she lunged for him. He very obviously hadn’t been expecting the attack and the sensation of her fist meeting his jaw was beyond exhilarating. Roan staggered back and Lexa quickly took advantage of his surprise and slammed him into the ground.

She straddled him, pinning his wrists down by the sides of his head. And despite the possibly fatal situation Roan had found himself in he only offered her a grin in response.

“How lovely it is to see you again Heda.”

Lexa growled low and she could feel her canines growing. Her eyes burned yellow. She lifted a hand, her nails extending into claws but before she could bring it down someone caught her wrist.

Her head snapped behind her only to find Anya.

Before she could even frown Anya roughly hauled her off Roan, the moment she was back up onto her feet she was shoving her harshly backwards, seemingly planting herself as a buffer between Lexa and Roan. Lexa instantly lurched forward to go at him again, but Anya’s arms suddenly jerked out and strong hands gripped tight enough to bruise into her shoulders. Though Lexa kept pushing herself forward Anya kept pushing her back.

“Calm down Lex. Calm down. Breathe.” Anya whispered, and even if were words were said softly Lexa could still hear the restrained panic in them.

Lexa let out another snarl. Her eyes didn’t leave Roan’s prone form. “It was him Anya. It was him.”

“I know _strikon_ , I know. But you need to stop. Calm down. Breathe.”

Lexa tried to burst forward again but Anya’s grip somehow grew impossibly tighter. Unexpectedly Lexa found the force pushing her back all together disappear, and instead Anya’s hands were on the sides of her face, forcing her to stare at her sister.

“Lexa, Lexa. Stop. Look at me. You need to calm down.”

And even if Lexa could still feel it, the urge to finish Roan off, to finally kill him, Anya’s words hit her like a blow to the gut. She let out a shuddering breath. “He killed her.” Lexa breathed. “It’s been two years Anya. Two _years_. She wasn’t meant to die. She was meant to be okay.”.

“I know. I know and I’m sorry Lexa.” Lexa could see that Anya was holding back tears. With a start Lexa realised a few tears had escaped from herself without her noticing. “Breathe with me. Slowly. Deep breaths.”

Lexa gave her a shaky nod, mimicking Anya’s slow breaths. When had she been panting? Only now did she realise the hard lack of air, the fast rhythm of her heart and lungs. Eventually Lexa felt her canines retract and her eyes returned to their usual shade of green. Anya offered her a small smile, a rare sight for someone like her, and slowly withdrew her hands. She took a step back when Roan, still lying on the ground, spoke up.

“I suppose I should thank you for saving my life just then.”

Anya turned to him with a snarl. She spat at his feet. “Fuck you Roan. The only reason you’re alive is because unlike your mother _we_ don’t want a war. Lexa can’t kill you because of Nia. But _I_ can. So don’t fucking patronise me.”

He only offered a dry chuckle in reply.

Lexa almost lunged for him again, but instead she just clenched her jaw and stared hard at him bring himself up to his feet, dusting off his shoulders like he’d just fallen over. Her burning gaze followed him as he stood up. He let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well. Not that I don’t love your wonderful company, but I’d much like it if you two would leave.”

“Why?” Lexa snapped. She stepped forward, and though Anya shot her an uneasy glance, she didn’t stop her.

Roan shrugged, that same sly smile tugging at his lips. “A wolf not allowed to walk in his own territory?”

“This is Trikru lands, Roan.” Anya growled.

“Ah, you’ll find that, technically, it’s not quite.” Lexa fought off her frown before she realised what Roan was saying. She took a deep drag of the air around her and saw, with a surprisingly well-hidden growl, that Roan was indeed on his side of his territory, just standing behind the invisible line.

Emphasis on _just._

“It doesn’t explain why you’re so far out.” Lexa muttered, not even acknowledging how Roan had been right.

He didn’t seem to care. “You are not our keeper, Heda, not anymore. I don’t follow you.” He straightened himself, rolling his shoulders back. “And unless you want to sit with me as I observe the waterfalls here, then I suggest you leave me alone. Of course, I’d love the company, but I feel as if you’d, perhaps, not enjoy mine as much.”

He gave her a wink and Lexa just barely held back on the urge to rip out his throat with her teeth.

Instead she finally let herself the chance to scan the surroundings around her. It was a small clearing; the waterfall off to the right, a minor quiet thing that trickled subtly in the background with gentle splashing’s of clear water. She also saw that Roan had actually been sitting down before she’d burst in here, as there was a rock just behind his feet. There was a bag too with what smell liked to be some food. As much as she loathed admitting it, it really did seem like Roan had just been out walking and probably escaping for a breath of fresh air from his mother.

Lexa hated him. Despised him. Put her alone with him and she’d easily make the decision to kill him. But the worst part was before the killing, before Clarke’s death by _his_ hand, she had actually slightly respected him. He wasn’t a friend by any means but he was close to an alley and a powerful one at that. She knew he hated his mother almost as much as she hated her, and with a mental scoff she supposed that was something that had made her feel at least the slightest bit sympathetic towards him.

But that was years ago. Not now.

So Lexa just stared him down. She balled her fists and clenched her jaw. Felt her wolf flush through her blood and beg for release, a chance, before she forced out a sigh through her nose and begrudgingly her wolf fell back inside of her. With a surprising amount of difficulty she dragged her sight over to Anya. She had been glaring at Roan, but at feeling Lexa’s gaze turned to her.

Lexa nodded at her before looking back to Roan. “Stay on your side, Roan. You tread a thin line and if I see you crossing borders I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“I believe that is something we both already know.” His lips curved into a smirk.

Lexa, in a seriously impressive display of self-control, stepped back. “I do not want to see you again Roan. Make sure I don’t.”

He gave her a mocking salute. “Of course…” he smiled wide. “Heda.”

She felt the hairs on the back of neck rise but still; she did nothing but turn around and walk away. Soon she felt Anya’s presence coming up next to her. Lexa’s walk was more a stomp and only once they’d left the clearing and were back in the thickness of the trees, out of Roan’s earshot, did Anya finally speak up and gently reach out to graze her arm. Though Lexa flinched from the touch she slowed her pace till she stopped completely. She aimed her gaze at the ground.

“Lexa, are you alright?”

“What do you think Anya?”

She hadn’t meant for the bite in her voice, but she was feeling too many emotions to keep herself in line. The sadistic part of her found it humorous how once again it was with anything related to Clarke that her usual ability to hide her feelings and control herself was thrown to the wind.

But Anya merely nodded at her and took a step back, seeming to have been expecting Lexa’s response. “You wanna’ work it off?”

Lexa finally raised her gaze to meet Anya’s, if only to show her confusion.

“Going hunting, dumbass. We can turn. Or you can turn, if you want to be alone.”

Lexa, finally, felt her shoulders relax. The feeling of losing all the tension that had been so tight for so long felt both strange and wonderful. She was silent briefly before slowly dipping her head.

“I’ll see you back at the house.” Lexa said. Anya hesitated for just a second before she nodded back at her.

“Okay. Stay safe. And – please, don’t go after Roan.”

Lexa swallowed. “I won’t.”

“Alright,” Anya brought her hands to her sides. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll see you soon then.” She made a move to leave before pausing. For a moment Lexa thought that _Anya_ of all people was going to hug her, before she merely reached out a hand and gently squeezed Lexa’s shoulder. “ _Ai hod yu in_. S _hanen_ _homplei op._ ”

Lexa offered her a weak smile. “ _Ai na ste klirnes._ ”

Anya gave her a look that Lexa couldn’t read before she retracted her hand, turned her head and walked away. Lexa waited until she was far enough away when she let her back fall against a tree. A chocked breath that could have been a sob escaped her. She tipped her head up towards the sky, which was blurred with glittering leaves.

Two years.

And it still felt the same.

-

It had been two days since they’d left.

Getting out the city had been easy, and so now they were left with the hard part. It was common for wolves to integrate themselves into human society, find themselves human jobs and go through the hell of human school. The only real true pack that despised away from this was Azgeda. Not that Clarke found that information surprising at all. Still, while wolves could live life as human as possible, at the end of the day they were still what they were – werewolves. So most tended to stick around the edges of towns and avoided the highly dense areas of cities. And now that her and Harper had left the city, even the outskirts, they were left in wide clear lands.

The worst part was they were in Azgeda lands.

They kept to the edges and shadows. Clarke could admit it; she _was_ feeling paranoid, if anyone spotted her than her two years of hiding meant nothing. All that she had given up, it would mean _nothing_. So she moved as fast as possible and as quiet as possible. It would have been easy, or at least, easi _er_ than what it currently was. Because while Clarke on her own could probably slip through undetected… she still had the problem of Harper.

The full moon was tonight. Harper would be turning, and that meant that she was going through the last of the changes, and the most debilitating. Harper wasn’t someone to complain. Even if Clarke could see the slight limp in her walk, in her run, as her feet would be aching with sharp pains and her bones would be pulsing as they prepared themselves. Even if Clarke stopped more than she should for breaks, to gently pull Harper on a rock or just the ground to sit on because she could see the sweat pouring down her face as she shivered violently.

Guilt was like bile in the back of her throat. Because of it Clarke never mentioned how they were moving far too slow than she’d like through the territory or how if she could just turn and Harper could hold on to her they could cut their travel time in half. Instead, Clarke kept quiet. She let Harper lean against her when need be and she stopped when her breathing become too labored.

But finally after the two days of travel and mostly silence, Clarke felt relief crash on her like a wave when she pushed through the last of the trees and into the clearing where they were supposed to meet. The waterfall was off to the side and most importantly was the tall figure of Roan, heir of Azgeda, his broad shoulders and sharp face turning to her with a grin. Clarke didn’t smile in return. She slowed her pace as she approached but his smile slipped of his face when he caught sight of Harper behind her.

“Well, why I was expecting you Clarke, I was not expecting additional company.” His blue eyes narrowed on Harper’s form.

Clarke stopped a few metres from in, subconsciously reaching a hand back protectively. “You called and I came. That is far more than I should risk for you Roan.”

Roan tilted his head with what Clarke could only name as curiosity. He smelled the air and his head snapped to her, a bemused smile on his lips. “You bring a human with you? A human with… your scent?”

Clarke instantly burst forward, but she forcefully stopped herself from diving at him. “I may owe you Roan, but we are not friends.” She growled. “Do not dare to accuse me.”

“I’m not,” he lifted his hands, far too calm for the ire in her voice. “Merely stating that it was an interesting developme…” Roan suddenly froze. His eyes lingered on Harper who was now hiding herself behind Clarke’s back. It didn’t matter. He must have finally noticed the way she stood and trembled, the way her eyes kept blinking in out and of focus and the reason why she minutely held Clarke’s scent. He turned to her with a disbelieving chuckle. “You _bit_ her?”

“It was an accident.” Clarke snapped. “An accident due to who _you_ sent. He attacked her as a wolf. I was forced to intervene.”

Roan, though still a mixture of surprised and curious, frowned. “Atohl may be an idiot, but he would not attack a human for no reason.” He gave her sly smirk. “You fought him didn’t you? Beat him so bad he was forced to turn?”

Clarke said nothing.

Roan shook his head. “I was wondering why he never came back. Well. At least now there are no loose ends.” Letting out a sigh he glanced behind him and leisurely sat down on a large smooth rock. He leaned over to the ground and pulled up a bag, reaching in and revealing a sandwich. “Hungry?” he offered, raising a brow.

Clarke glared at him in response.

He shrugged and took a bite. Clarke glanced at her surroundings and figured she would scope out the area bit. While she truly was in Roan’s debt she didn’t trust him, and there was a small chance he had lured her out here just for the chance of finally handing her over to Nia. It wasn’t very likely. But it was likely enough for her to be cautious. She began moving around, walking the edges of the clearing when she felt a hand grip her elbow.

She turned her head to see Harper.

“Clarke, why are we here? Who is that guy?”

Clarke opened her mouth then closed it. “He’s… safe.” She settled on. “He won’t hurt you. But, in saying that, don’t turn your back to him.”

Harper glanced between Roan, happily munching on his sandwich, and then back to her. “What do you owe him?”

“My life.”

Harper’s eyes widened. “He saved you?” she breathed.

Before Clarke could say anything Roan was interrupting. “That I did. At a great risk of personal cost, might I add.”

“Don’t talk to her.” Clarke snapped.

He raised a hand that wasn’t holding his sandwich. “Of course, _alpha_.”

They held each other’s stares. He was grinning again, smug and daring, and while Clarke would _so_ enjoy hitting him she just scoffed and turned around, continuing to canvas the area surrounding her. Harper awkwardly followed her, seeming to take Clarke’s words to heart of not trusting him. Though she followed her she did as Clarke said and didn’t turn her back to him. It was when Clarke had nearly finished her lap of the clearing that she tripped over her own feet. Distantly she saw Roan furrow his brows at her and Harper reach out as if to catch her.

But Clarke was now rooted to the spot.

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

That scent. She knew that scent. It didn’t matter if she’d tried with all she had to burn it from her memory, that smell of earth and sweetness, it never left her memory. Clarke’s head snapped towards Roan with a snarl. Instantly she bolted for him, her eyes flashing yellow as she pounced on him from his spot of the rock and landed on top of him. His eyes went wide as Clarke growled so low and savagely a nearby flock of birds in the trees took off, seeming to decide it’d be far safer for them to get away from something that could make such a sound.

She hadn’t smelt that scent in years. But with it came a barrage of memories she had thought she’d locked away, anger and hurt and betrayal she had _thought_ she had under control. She was very clearly wrong.

Clarke had his wrists pinned, her teeth bared and face hanging dangerously close to his own.

Now, previously when Roan had been tackled in an eerily similar position before, he hadn’t really been afraid. Lexa was intimidating, yes, but she was a leader before anything else. Because of his heritage to Nia he was basically untouchable to her. But Clarke? Clarke had nothing to hold her back. And it took a lot to anger her, to properly push her to those terrifying levels anger, but he also knew that Clarke was reckless and when she reached those levels, she wouldn’t pull back. So while Roan hadn’t been afraid when attacked by Lexa, he was sure as shit terrified at the hulking weight on top of him.

“You brought _her_ here?! You plan to betray me for fucking _her_?” Clarke snarled.

Roan instantly shook his head from below her. “No, no, she was here before. _Before_. I didn’t intend to see her. She was searching the borders and found me by coincidence.”

Clarke’s mind was in a red haze. Roan’s words sounded further away than the actually were. She gripped his wrists tighter, feeling her hands partly transform into claws. Roan face grew even more panicked as Clarke leaned closer. Closer to his neck.

“Clarke, listen to me. Lexa isn’t here. She’s gone. She’s not coming back.”

“Don’t fucking say her name!” Clarke roared. Her breathing was fast and stuttered. Her wolf rallied from inside of her, a thundering relentless force that now awakened burned through every inch of her skin.

“Okay, okay, I won’t. I won’t say it.” Clarke growled again, lower than before, but she did pull back slightly. Roan gulped. “I swear to you, she’s not here. She’s gone. I have no association with her or plans.”

Though Clarke was verging on the edge of bloodlust, she listened carefully to his heart and his breathing. None stuttered and while she did know that Roan was a good liar, he wasn’t perfect, and the panic and fear wasn’t because he had betrayed her. No, he was telling the truth.

Slowly, Clarke pulled herself off him. The moment she leaned back enough and released his wrists he was scrambling out from under her and putting much needed distance between the two of them. Clarke didn’t blame him. She stood carefully and ignoring the thudding of her heart, the burning of her skin, she forcefully took in a shuddering breath and felt herself return back to its human state.

Lexa. Just from the name alone she felt her wolf grow restless. She hadn’t spoken it loud since two years ago, hadn’t even let herself _think_ it. It was always her, or she, it was never… it was never _Lexa_. Her anger didn’t fully leave her but her breathing did calm and her clenched fists unraveled. The worst part, the most aggravating part that had sent her blindly diving for Roan wasn’t just that feeling of fury though. It wasn’t just that hurt and betrayal.

It was the calmness that she had felt. That small breath of relief, of the knot in her chest loosening after two years, it was the way that even after everything, after what _she_ had done to her; her scent still made her feel like she’d come home.

And that was what Clarke hated with every fibre of her being.

“Why did you call me here Roan?” Clarke muttered, raising her now blue eyes to meet his.

His face had returned to its usual smug sarcastic self but there was a hint of cautiousness, of wariness, that hadn’t been there before that lurked behind his gaze. “I need you. My mother is planning something and I need to find out what.”

“I thought you had her trust?” Clarke bristled and her voice turned cold. “If you’re saying that after giving up everything I had, that it was worth _nothing_ -“

“No, no it was worth it. She does trust me. Especially after your death. But whatever she’s doing, it’s important, _seriously_ important. She’s not told anyone, not even her advisors.”

Clarke stared at him carefully. “So how do you know she’s up to something?”

“You know she was doing something all those years ago. I don’t think she ever stopped. Whatever it is, she’s keeping everyone at arms length, and I think that’s the most dangerous part. I need to find out what she’s doing. Knowing her, it’s probably going to involve a lot of killing.”

“So you brought me here…” realisation dawned on Clarke slowly. “I’m still technically dead. Have no affiliation or pack scents, can go in and do whatever you want with the lowest chance of her finding out.”

Roan nodded. “If I find out what she’s doing, it could finally give me leverage. I could take her place as alpha and have her killed. _This_ is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. I’m asking for your help.”

“Nia being killed does have a nice ring to it,” Clarke muttered under her breath. She let out a shuddering sigh, briefly glancing to the sky. “What you’re asking Roan is incredibly dangerous. You understand, right?”

He grinned at her. “I’m not a fool.”

He really wasn’t. But Clarke knew that while Roan certainly wasn’t a fool, he was doing a foolish thing in not just plain demanding her to aid him. Because in a situation like this, she’d have to, she had a life debt towards him – that wasn’t something ever to be taken lightly. Yet instead he had merely ordered that she meet him so he could ask, not order her to do what he wanted. As much as he was an ass with a dodgy view of morals, what he was doing was kind, utterly foolish, but kind.

After all, he was the one who hadn’t killed her when he could have.

So even if Clarke knew the incredible dangers of what he was asking her, she kept her gaze even and watched him closely. Slowly she raised her chin. She could feel Harper’s eyes on her, probably panicking that she was going to attack Roan again.

Instead Clarke dipped her head. “Okay.” Roan didn’t let show the relief on his face, but Clarke saw how his shoulders relaxed fractionally. “What do you need me to do?”

He stepped forward, only hesitating for a split-second. He pulled out a crumped small piece of paper from his back pocket. Clarke took it carefully, spreading the crinkled paper out and observing what it was. She frowned. “This is a map of Skaikru territory.”

“I need you to go here.” Roan tapped the red circle around the top left corner of the map. “It’s a workhouse. Small as a shed. I have reason to believe there’s information in there that could shed us some light on my mother. I need you to break in there, undetected, search the place and get out.”

Clarke just stared at him. “This is a map of _Skaikru_ territory.” She repeated, her fingers curling around the paper. “Getting here was difficult, but there? Where my people-“ Clarke bit her tongue. “Where so many people know me? Roan, you have to understand how dangerous that is.”

His face for once was completely serious. “This is what I need you to do.”

Clarke swore. Even if she spun around and ran a hand through her hair, screwing her eyes shut and cursing again, she didn’t let go of the map clutched tight in her hand. Eventually she turned back to face him. She couldn’t read his face.

If this went wrong, then hell would be sure to fall.

“Give me four days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im still getting my groove back for this story so i apologise if it didn't feel up to the usual standard. still, i hope you enjoyed and if you could leave a comment and kudos then ill promise to update this a LOT quicker than before! 
> 
> translations for the curious:  
> Shof op Onya - Shut up Anya  
> Emo diyo ai put op glong - The things I put up with. [This sentence is very dodgy hoo boy im not a linguist]  
> Strikon - Young one  
> Ai hod yu in. Shanen homplei op. - I love you. Happy hunting.  
> Ai na ste klirnes - I’ll stay safe


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